“Breathe,” he says. “You don’t have to go alone.” “I do,” I say. “I do. He’s not going to imprison me. He’s going to hang me, Quint. He’s going to do it as publicly as possible. He’ll hang anyone who comes with me, you know that—” “I do know that.” His voice is so quiet, his hands so gentle against my wrists. “I’ll go with you.” I stare into his eyes. I wasted so much time.
QUINT MY HEART
